The Return of the Living Loud
by Flagg1991
Summary: Lincoln and a coworker accidentally release a chemical that raises the dead.
1. Chemical Spill

**People keep bitching at me to write something that isn't Loudcest...so I'm doing another horror crossover. Lucky you. This time around I'm doing The Return of the Living Dead (1985), my all-time favorite zombie movie. This story's going to be a little different. My previous ones (A Nightmare on Loud Street, Friday the Loudteenth, etc) took the villain and dropped them among the Louds in a totally unique situation. This time around I'm parodying the movie's storyline, and if you've seen it, you'll notice. If you haven't, well, you won't know the difference, so the point is moot. You'll still enjoy it. Maybe.**

* * *

 **July 3, 2017**

 **5:30 PM, Central Daylight Time**

Lincoln Loud crossed his arms as Frank, his supervisor, lead him through the storeroom. Around him were rows of metal shelves packed with medical supplies: Bed pans, crutches, you name it. There were also...other things, things that were sold to universities, like spilt dogs and real live skeletons.

"We get all our skeletons from India," Frank said, laying his hand on the shoulder of a skeleton hanging from a string. Lincoln shuddered. Frank, a short, jovial man with sparkling blue eyes and what Lincoln thought was a beer belly, looked at him.

"Why?" Lincoln asked curiously.

Frank shrugged one shoulder. "I dunno. Some goddamn treaty or something. You know what gets me? They all have perfect teeth." He pointed to the skeleton's teeth. They were, indeed, perfect. "Who the hell makes it through life with a perfect set of chompers?"

Lincoln unconsciously touched the tip of his tongue to his own teeth. They were chipped and deformed. _Certainly not me,_ he thought.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but an office door opened and the owner of the company, Bert, came out, shrugging into a jacket. "Well, I'm off to the races, Frank."

"Don't bet _too_ much," Frank said with a grin.

"I'll try not to," Bert replied, coming over. "You okay with Lincoln or do you need me?"

Frank waved a hand. "Nah, we're fine. Kid's catching on quick."

"That's what I like to hear," Bert said, slapping Lincoln's arm. "Hey, am I gonna see you at the big cookout this weekend?"

"I'll be there with bells on," Frank said.

Bert nodded. "Alrighty then, you two lock up and turn out the lights when you're done."

When Bert was gone, Frank looked at Lincoln. "You wanna see something _really_ creepy?"

"Uh...sure?"

Frank grinned. "Come on."

At a big metal door with a latch, Frank paused. "This is where we keep the cadavers for the medical schools. Usually we have a full house, but today we only got one." He unlatched the door and pushed it open; cold air washed over Lincoln, plastering his lank, sweaty hair to his forehead. Frank went in, and Lincoln followed, stopping (along with his heart) when he saw the thing hanging from a hook toward the back. It was a clear bag with a yellowish body inside. "Jesus," Lincoln muttered.

"Yep," Frank said, "that guy right there is leaving us Monday morning for Cincinnati, where he'll be cut up and studied."

Lincoln shook his head as he imagined his own dead, naked body being dissected and examined by a team of med students. There was something so...degrading about it.

"Alright, let's get the paperwork done so we can get the hell out of here, huh?"

Frank led Lincoln to a tiny office off the storeroom. Papers cluttered the desk. Hot July sunshine fell through the blinds, making golden bars across the mess. Lincoln sat down in a chair facing the desk while Frank sat behind it. "You just hang out for a minute, okay?"

"Sure," Lincoln said.

While Frank went over forms, invoices, and whatever else, Lincoln tapped his foot. He took the job at the Uneeda Medical Supply Warehouse because in a family as big as his, money was tight, and he was sick of being broke. He would work the summer then quit when School started in September.

"Hey, kid," Frank said, looking up.

"Yeah?"

"You ever see that movie Night of the Living Zombies?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said. That was one of Lucy's favorites. "The zombies eat the people."

Frank nodded. "You know that was based on a true story, right?"

Lincoln blinked. "What? No way!"

Frank, a tiny grin dancing across his lined face, nodded. "Yep. They changed it all around, though. There was a chemical the army created during Vietnam, I think to gas out the gooks, and there was a spill at the VA hospital in Pittsburgh. All that stuff leaked into the morgue and made the bodies jump around as though they were alive." Frank made a spasmodic movement with his arms.

Even though Lincoln was sure Frank was messing with him, his heart was racing. Zombies... _real_ zombies?

"They got all those bodies and put 'em in barrels. They shipped 'em off to some army depot, but there was a fuck up...and they came here."

Lincoln's eyes widened. He was leaning forward. "H-Here?"

Frank nodded. When he spoke, his voice was low, hypnotizing, a terrible campfire story quality to it. "Five of them. At any moment, they could come back..."

The phone rang, and Lincoln jumped a foot.

Frank laughed richly and clapped his hands. He picked up the phone and put it to his ear. "Hello? Oh, hi, honey. Yeah, I'm almost done. Just...keep the pot roast warm, will you? Alright. Love you too. Bye." He hung up the phone and looked at Lincoln. "Wanna see 'em?"

Lincoln found himself nodding.

"Let's go."

* * *

The Loud daughters, save for Lilly, were walking down the sidewalk in a big group. They were in the industrial part of town, factories, warehouses, and other drab buildings surrounding them.

"What time does Lincoln get off, dude?" Luna asked.

"Uh...six-thirty," Luan said, looking at her phone.

Lori sighed. "That's, like, an hour. Why did we leave the house so early?"

" _You_ were the one in a rush to get out the door," Lola said.

"I specifically informed you that given the speed at which we walk and the distance between our domicile and Lincoln's place of employment we would reach it approximately an hour early," Lisa said. She checked her watch. "We are fifty-six minutes and forty-nine seconds early."

"Like, there's nothing to do," Leni sighed, sagging her shoulders.

The warehouse where Lincoln worked appeared across the street. There was a single car in the tiny parking lot. UNEEDA MEDICAL SUPPLY a big sign read.

"We can go in that cemetery," Lucy said flatly, nodding toward the wrought iron gates of graveyard.

"I have a football," Lynn said, "we can toss it around and try not to trip over the gravestones."

"That's _totes_ disrespectful to the dead," Leni said. "How would _you_ like it if someone was playing football on _your_ house?"

Lynn shrugged. "I'd break outta my coffin and join in!"

At the gates of the cemetery, they stopped "Resurrection Cemetery," Lori read. "Ugh. Why not? We _literally_ have all the time in the world to kill."

She pushed the gates open and they walked in. Ranks and ranks of tombstones were bent and crooked, some lying on the ground. The grass was high, and trash littered the entire space. "This burial ground is in deplorable disrepair," Lisa said, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"It's grody," Lana said, her nose crinkling. "I _like_ it."

* * *

Across the country, a man in a military uniform comes through the door of a tastefully appointed home, removes his hat and coat, and hangs them up. He unbuttons the collar of his blue uniform shirt and crosses to a wetbar, where he makes himself a drink. His wife comes in. "Hi, dear, how was your day?"

"The usual. Crap," he says. "What's for dinner?"

"Tacos, dear, you're favorite."

"I had them for lunch."

Drink in hand, he goes into the living room and sits next to a strange machine. He taps a few keys and reads the screen with a sigh. Over forty years, and those barrels were still out there somewhere, sitting in a warehouse or a hanger, their deadly contents waiting to come out...the man shivers. If one of those damn things ever woke up, life on earth would cease to exist...if Uncle Sam didn't move quick.

He hoped to God, as he did every day, that no dumbass ever opened one of those barrels...

* * *

Frank snapped on the basement light and led Lincoln down a rickety set of stairs. "Watch that fifth step," he said, "it's a bitch."

It creaked dangerously under Lincoln's foot. In the basement, Frank flipped another switch, and muted yellow light filled a tiny space. Five green metal drums with glass tops were bunched together. Green writing was stenciled on the side: PROPERTY OF THE U.S. ARMY; DO NOT OPEN; IN CASE OF EMERGENCY CALL and then a number. Frank went over to one and rubbed the glass with the sleeve of his shirt. "There he is. I call him Tarman."

Swallowing, Lincoln went over and looked inside.

What he saw turned his blood to ice water. A skeletal face with wide, staring eye sockets and grinning teeth. His heart jumped into his throat and he fell back.

"You say that thing was alive?"

Frank grabbed a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels. He squirted some of the cleaner onto the glass and rubbed it with the roll. "So they say."

Lincoln's heart raced. "Hey, these things don't leak, do they?"

Frank laughed. "Leak? Hell no. These things were made by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers." He kicked the side, and it happened: Greenish-yellow gas shot out and splattered against the floor. Lincoln's heart stopped, but before he could flee, the gas was choking him. He and Frank coughed and tried to flee, but collapsed.

 _I'm going to die,_ Lincoln thought as he spasmed on the floor.

Then darkness stole over him.

The gas seeped through the whole building, carried by the air ducts and creeping into the freezer and showering down on the cadaver. After a few minutes, it began to move.

In the basement, the horrible thing that Frank called Tarman opened its eyes and moved its fleshless lips. "Brains," it said in a deep, dark voice.


	2. The Cadaver

Lucy walked around the cemetery, looking at the tombstones and trying to decipher the faded writing. Many of the newest graves were fifty years old; a lot of them dated back to the Civil War and even earlier. As she walked the rows, she contemplated the life and times of those interred. What was it like to live in 1820 or 1870? She thought of all the pictures and paintings she'd seen in her history books at school. Her vision of that time was romanticized, though deep down she realized that it was most likely the same as today. She looked at her sisters and imagined them in frilly dresses and bonnets. There you go. 1820.

She sighed and sat Indian style in the grass. She liked cemeteries. They were so peaceful and serene. She felt like the dead understood her...because the living sure didn't.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Lola asked, her hands on her hips.

Sigh.

"Communing with the dead," she said, part sarcastically and part honestly.

"You're _so_ creepy."

"I always get that from you guys," Lucy said. "'Lucy, you're spooky, Lucy's you're scary, Lucy you always wear black and it's after Labor Day.' Screw you. You think this is a costume? It's a way of life."

Lola lifted one brow. "Uh...sure, okay, have fun."

Lucy shook her head. No one got her.

Luna was sitting with her back against a tomb and a flask between her bent knees. She picked it up, unscrewed it, and took a deep drink.

"What'cha got there, Lune?" Luan asked, sitting down next to her.

"Coca-Cola," Luna said.

"Liar," Luan said. She snatched the flask and took a drink.

Luna was telling the truth. It _was_ Coke. She handed it back. "I expected alcohol."

"Nah, bro, sorry," Luna said. "I'm totally straight edge."

Luan nodded. Whatever _that_ meant. "Hey, you wanna hear a joke?"

Luna shrugged. "Sure."

"What does the sign on an out-of-business brothel say?"

Luna lifted the flask to his lips and shrugged.

"Beat it, we're closed!"

Luna sprayed soda. Leni, who was passing with her limp wrists bent in front of her like a cute dog begging for a treat, stopped. "I don't get it."

"Of course you don't," Luan said. "You're a bigger dummy than Mr. Coconuts."

 _"I am not dumb!"_ Leni flashed.

"Why was the guitar teacher arrested?"

"Why?" Lynn asked, coming up. She tossed her football into the air and caught it.

"For fingering a minor!"

Lynn jerked in shock, and missed the ball: It hit her on the top of the head and bounced off.

"Hey, guys!" Luna called, her face red from laughter. "Get over here, Luan's telling funny jokes again!"

Encouraged, Luan climbed onto the tomb as her sisters gathered around. "Why does Santa Claus have such a big sack? He only comes once a year!"

Everyone laughed except Lisa. "I find vulgar humor irritating and juvenile."

"What's the difference between a pickpocket and a peeping tom? One snatches your watch, the other watches your snatch!"

Lynn fell to the ground and rolled back and forth, her hands holding her stomach. Luna was on her side, kicking her legs and howling. Lola and Lana threw their arms around each other's shoulders to keep from falling over.

"Thank you!" Luan said, walking back and forth. "Thank you!"

"More!" Leni cried.

Luan touched her index finger to her chin. "Hmmm...Do you know what a 6.9 is? Another good thing screwed up by a period!"

Even Lucy was laughing now. Lisa shook her head and walked away, muttering to herself. In the perfect Aryan society, lewd jokes would be outlawed...

* * *

Bert was _pissed_. "You did _what?_ You opened it? You stupid moron! You idiot! What's the matter with you, Frank? Haven't I already told you never to even go near those goddamn tanks?"

He threw his hands up and then put them on his hips, his head cocking angrily to one side. Frank and Lincoln stood pensively before him, their faces pale and sheened with sweat. Lincoln felt like a truck ran him over: His head ached and his muscles and joints were sore. He could barely hear himself think over the terrible sound of the cadaver screaming and banging against the freezer door.

When he and Frank woke up, they stumbled up the stairs and went into the office for a drink from the water cooler. When the pounding started, they both jumped. "What is that?" Lincoln moaned.

Frank swallowed and poked his head out of the office door. When the freezer door jumped, he wailed. "Oh, Jesus! It's alive!"

Ice filled Lincoln's soul. The thing banged on the door again, and Frank cried womanishly out. "We gotta call Bert! He'll know what to do!"

Frank tiptoed over to the desk and sat down while Lincoln ran his hands nervously through his hair. This was _not_ good. There was a zombie in the next room and _oh my god a zombie!_

Frank took a drink of water, ran his hands through as hair as if to make himself presentable, and picked up the phone. He dialed, then, when Bert answered, he said, in a steady, casual tone, "Hey, Bert, it's Frank...we have a problem."

Presently, Frank trembled. "What are we going to do, Bert?"

Bert flashed. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to be sued by the Darrow Chemical Company. I might even be investigated by the government. I might become very famous. I might even lose my business. I might even go to jail, goddamn it! That's what I'm going to do!" He ranked a hand through his silvery hair and tossed a glance over his shoulder. "One question, Frank: this guy screaming in here... you're sure he's a dead cadaver?"

Frank gestured to the door. "Why don't you open the door and find out?"

Bert hesitated. "Uh... no, that's alright, Frank, I'll take your word for that." Bert took a deep breath and shook his head. "Well, we gotta get rid of this thing. How'd they kill them in the movie?"

Frank thought for a minute, then brightened. "They hit 'em in nuts!"

Lincoln nodded. That's right. The only way to kill them was to destroy the genitals.

Bert nodded. "Alright, here's what we're going to do." He walked over to a table, looked around, and picked up a pick ax. "We're gonna let that thing out and you're gonna whack him in the balls."

He handed the ax to Frank, who moaned. "Oh, Jesus!"

"Man up, Frank! You're the one who got us into this mess!" Bert slipped his arm around Lincoln's shoulder and led him to the door. Lincoln shook. "It's gonna be alright, son. When I say the word, just pull that latch and let him out, okay?"

Lincoln nodded, his heart blasting. This was his and Frank's fault. It was up to them to fix it.

"Okay," Bert said, and went over to Frank. He put his arm on a shelf and looked at Lincoln.

Time passed. Lincoln's stomach churned.

Bert nodded, and Lincoln unlatched the door with trembling fingers. It exploded open, and the corpse – yellow and naked and bald – ran out, its arms up. Frank screamed and dropped the ax, but instead of going after him, it tackled Bert, who howled. "Ahhhhh, get it off! Get it off! Get it off!"

Frank and Lincoln ran to him, Frank slipping his forearm around the zombie's neck and Lincoln grabbing one of its arms. It was cold to the touch, and Lincoln shivered.

They wrestled it to the ground, Lincoln sitting on its chest and holding its arms. It snapped its jaws at him.

"Grab his legs!" Bert said. Frank did, and Bert picked the ax up off the floor. He lifted it high, and brought it down as hard as he could on the zombie's nut sack, the point making a metallic sound as it hit the floor. The zombie wailed and thrashed.

But it didn't die.

Lincoln's heart twisted. "The balls! Hit the balls!"

 _"I hit the fucking balls!"_ Bert cried, his voice cracking with frustration. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair. "Alright, new plan."

A moment later he came over and knelt next to the zombie. He was holding a handsaw.

"Oh, Jesus!" Frank whined.

"Shut up, Frank!" Bert started to saw the head off, and the zombie made a horrible gurgling sound. When the head was off, Lincoln got up...and paled when the zombie got up, too. It began to stumble drunkenly around.

Bert kicked it in the back of its leg, and it fell. "Hold him, Frank!"

In a few moments, the zombie was hog tied and Bert's hands were on his hips again. "Looks like the only way to kill it is to fully destroy it."

"Acid!" Frank said.

Bert shook his head, then brightened. He went to a window and looked out into the newly fallen night. "Yes! He's still there!"

"Who?" Lincoln asked.

"Ernie! He's the mortician at the funeral home across the way...he has a crematorium."

Frank threw his head back. "Bert, that's _beautiful!"_

Bert looked down at the zombie. "Now we need to get this thing over there..."


	3. Party Time

It was almost seven and dark. Lori crossed her arms and texted Lincoln. "He should be off work by now," she said. They were gathered around the foot of the tomb, the night lit by nearly a dozen flashlights. Crickets chirped and warm wind slipped through the trees with a rustling sound.

"Maybe he's working late," Luan said. She was sitting on top of the crypt, her legs crossed and swinging back and forth.

"Maybe his ass is about to get left," Lynn said. She tossed her football up and caught it. "I don't have all night."

Lori sighed. "I'm going to go see. You guys stay here. Leni, you're...actually, Lisa, you're in charge."

A toothy grin flashed across Lisa's face. _Finally,_ she thought, _I can begin installation of The Fourth Reich!_

Crossing her arms, Lori moved away from the light and into the darkness of the cemetery. An owl hooted, and she jumped. _Get a grip, girl. There's nothing to be afraid of._ She tripped over a fallen headstone and crashed face first into the ground with an _umph!_

 _Except for that._

Shaking herself off, she got back up and reached the gate. Lights were on in the warehouse; a nearby streetlamp cast a murky pool onto the sidewalk. There was no one around, and the desolation was _literally_ the creepiest thing ever. Rubbing her arms, she looked around and thought about going back. If she did that, though, her sisters would tease her about being scared, and between the nine of them, they could be downright _savage_.

With a sigh, she crossed the street and went to a door. She knocked and waited, then knocked again. No one answered. _Come on, Linc._ She knocked one more time, then tried the knob.

It was unlocked.

She turned it and slipped in, shutting the door behind her. She was in what looked like a storeroom. A pickax and a saw lay on the floor. Hm. "Lincoln?" she asked, walking around a corner and peeking into a cramped office. She didn't see anyone.

"Lincoln?"

Her voice echoed eerily. Shadows pooled in the corners. She went to an open door and poked her head in. A set of stairs led into a basement. "Lincoln? Are you down there?" She slowly descended, her hand trailing the banister. The fifth step creaked underfoot.

At the bottom, she looked around. She saw a bunch of green tanks sitting in a corner, but no Lincoln and no anyone else. _Where the hell is he?_

A shuffling footstep sounded behind her, and she turned. A white sheet hung across a doorway, and a shadow fell upon it: Stooped shoulders, bent head. Lori's heart jumped into her throat, and the sheet was ripped away, revealing a monster with wide eyes and big teeth. Its flesh hung from its skeletal frame like strips of black, slimy cloth.

Lori screamed.

 _"Brains!"_ it cried, and started shuffling forward.

For a moment she was paralyzed. Then, all at once, adrenaline shot through her and she sprang for the stairs, taking them two at a time. When she hit the fifth, however, it gave way and she fell; she screamed and threw out her arms. Behind her, the thing was beginning to ascend, its smell reaching her nostrils: Dead, sickly sweet, and swampy.

 _Oh God!_

She tried to lift herself up, but she wasn't strong enough. The thing was almost on her, and she had no choice but to let go and fall back into the basement, where she landed on the floor in a heap. She was trapped! She looked hysterically around, and saw a metal locker just big enough for her to fit into. It was her only option.

She jumped to her feet and ran to it, stuffing herself in and pulling the door closed. Through the slats, she watched the thing approach...

* * *

Ernie Kaltenbrunner, a tall, thin man with white hair and bug eyes, was smoking a pipe and listening to _Auferstanden aus Ruinen,_ his favorite song, on his headphones as his hands absently worked on the body laid out before him. Mr. Johnson, a beefy man with a mustache, had been an investment banker in life. Now he was a cold slab of clay on a metal table in a room with puke green tiled walls and crammed with embalming equipment. Well...there _was_ a couch against the far wall for those all-important evening naps.

Pausing, Ernie took the pipe from his lips, blew out a plume of smoke, and looked over his work. Mr. Johnson wasn't the prettiest corpse he'd ever gussied up, but he would do. His funeral was on Monday.

Ernie saw a smudge he didn't like, so he put the pipe back between his lips and rubbed it with his thumb.

It wasn't coming off.

Hm. Well, son of a bitch. Where's the make-up?

He didn't hear Bert come in, didn't hear him ask him how it was going...didn't know he was there until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Ernie's heart blasted, and in one smooth motion, he spun and whipped out a Lugar. Bert jumped back and held up his hands. When he saw that it was his friend and not a vengeful spirit, as he half suspected, he chuckled nervously and put the gun away. "You scared the shit out of me, Bert," he said, taking his headphones off.

"You're pretty quick on the draw there, Ernie."

"Old habits," Ernie said. "How's it going?"

Bert slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and shrugged. "Actually, Ernie, I've been better."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What's the matter?"

Bert took a deep breath. "How long have we been friends, buddy? Twenty-five years?"

Ernie thought. "About that, yeah."

Bert nodded. "And...if I needed a favor...a _big_ favor..."

Ernie's brow lifted. He was becoming concerned. "What is it, Bert? Are you in trouble?"

"Look, I have a couple of my men outside, let me bring 'em in."

Bert opened the door and Ernie threw up his hands. "Wait, Bert..."

Two people came in, a man and a boy. Between them they carried a stretcher.

"Aw, this is illegal, Bert," Ernie said, shaking his head.

"Put it over there," Bert said, pointing. Frank and Lincoln sat the stretcher down on the floor. Ernie walked over, and noticed that the stretcher was filled with black trash bags.

They were moving.

"What is this?" Ernie asked, confused.

Bert looked at him. "Rabid pygmies."

Ernie blinked. "Pygmies?"

Bert nodded. "Pygmies."

"Like...the little Africans?"

Bert nodded. "Ten inches tall."

Ernie looked from the writhing mass of bags to Bert, then back again. "What the hell are you doing with rabid pygmies?"

"Well, they weren't _supposed_ to be rabid. It was a shipping error."

"Wait a minute. You have _pygmies_ over there?"

"Focus, Ernie. I can't have it coming out that I have rabid pygmies. It'd be bad for business. I need you to help me get rid of them."

Ernie cocked his head. "How am I supposed to help?"

Bert shrugged a shoulder. "You have the crematorium..."

A look of horror crossed Ernie's face. "You want to _burn_ them? God, Bert, that's horrible!"

Lincoln and Frank sat together on a couch. Lincoln felt strange. His entire body was achy and his skin was clammy. And his head...God, it hurt so fucking bad. Next to him, Frank was pale and sweaty.

"Look," Ernie said, taking his gun out, "how about we drag them out into the parking lot and I'll shoot them first, okay?"

Bert looked at the bags and shook his head. "That's not gonna work."

"Huh?"

Bert faced his friend. "Those aren't pygmies."

Ernie's brow crinkled. "W-Well, what is it?"

Bert picked one of the bags up and opened it: An arm shot out, hit the floor, and crawled on spidery fingers toward Ernie. Ernie let out a petrified scream and stumbled back. The hand grabbed him around the ankle, and he yelled again. He looked up at Bert, his face dark with rage. _"Get it off me!"_

Bert scrambled over, bent the zombie's fingers back, and pulled the arm away. Ernie was panting. "What the hell was that?"

"A dead body."

Bert told him everything, and Ernie listened, rapt. When he was done, Ernie shook his head. "I think you acted precipitously in cutting up the corpse. I'll help you, though. But you owe me _big_."

"Thank _God,_ " Bert said.

Lincoln and Frank carried the stretcher into the basement, where an oven was built into the wall. Ernie pressed a button, and it filled with fire. Frank and Lincoln heaped the bags onto a tray, and Ernie pushed it into the blaze.

"This is gonna burn it all?" Bert asked as Frank and Lincoln sat on a bench. Lincoln felt so weak he could barely keep his head up.

"Everything except the heart. It's one big, tough muscle"

"Well, we don't want the heart hanging around."

Ernie shrugged. "I'll turn it up higher. Then there'll be nothing but a little bitty pile of ashes."

"We don't even want the ashes."

"I'll turn it up higher and burn the ashes then," Ernie said sarcastically.

Next to Lincoln, Frank coughed. "Some favor. _I_ could operate that goddamn thing..."

As they watched the body burn, smoke poured from the mortuary's chimney and into the heavens.

With a crash of lightning, it began to rain.

* * *

Lisa stood with her hands behind her back. Gone was her green sweater and brown pants, replaced by a black SS uniform. In front of her, her siblings were kneeling with their hands laced across the backs of their heads. "Now," Lisa said, "does anyone have any objection to the rules I have laid forth?"

No one did.

"Good. The next one to tell a dirty joke, throw a football, make a stupid remark, sigh, talk about mud or fashion...will be shot. Are we clear?"

Everyone mumbled their reply. "Splendid. You may..."

Thunder rolled across the sky, and rain began to fall. Luna screamed. "Aw, man, it's acid rain!"

A drop hit Lisa's cheek and her flesh began to burn. It was happening! Hitler was sending a cleaning storm to purge the world of undesirables! Ow. Ow. Goddamn it, Hitler, not _me!_

Screaming, her sisters got up and started to run. The rain came faster, burning Lisa like lava. She followed, and by unspoken consent they went to the warehouse where Lincoln worked, blasting through the door in a big, screaming group.

"Aw, my skin!" Lola cried.

"I think I'm on fire," Luan moaned.

"Like, why is the rain hot?" Leni asked.

Lisa opened her mouth to speak, but a blood-curdling scream filled the storeroom.

"That sounds like Lori!" Luna said.

It came again.

"It's coming from there!" she yelled, pointing at an open door. As one, they went to it and hurried down the steps. "Whoa, watch that fucking step!" Luna said, jumping over the broken tread. At the bottom, they saw a terrible sight: A slime covered monstrosity was dragging Lori out of a metal locker. Lori beat her fists against it and screamed. It drew back its head, and as the Loud kids screamed in horror, it sank its teeth into her head. She wailed, then went limp.

"Lori!" Luna wailed.

The thing threw Lori aside and turned. Lisa's stomach knotted when she saw it: It was more horrible looking than a Jew, its eyes straining from its sockets and its lipless mouth smeared with blood. _"More brains!"_ it said, and came forward. Lisa's siblings broke and ran around her, falling over themselves (and each other) to get up the stairs. Lisa watched in horror as it lurched forward, her heart slamming and her stomach knotting. Then, coming awake, she whipped out her Lugar and opened fire: Three bullets hit the thing. It turned and jerked, but kept coming forward. _"Big brain!"_ it cried.

Finally, Lisa fled, screaming and climbing the stairs. She forgot about the bad one, however, and fell back down into the basement, snapping both of her legs. She was trapped and helpless as the monster came for her.

She sighed. "At least I get to go out like my hero," she said. She put the barrel of the gun into her mouth and pulled the trigger.

Outside, the remaining Loud sisters ran across the street and back into the cemetery, screaming mindlessly. None of them noticed that Lisa wasn't with them.

The rain had stopped, but big pools of water filled the cemetery. Lucy fell, splashed, and jumped up, screaming because it was burning her skin. Lola and Lana both sank, but Lynn snatched them up and tucked one under each arm. They reached the raised doorway of a crypt and clustered around, the water inches below.

"Jesus Christ!" Luna wailed. "We're gonna have to swim!"

"It ate Lori's head!" Leni sobbed. "It ate her head!"

"I'm scared!" Lola wept.

"Me too!" Lana cried.

"My skin hurts," Lucy said flatly.

A loud gurgle rose and echoed through the cemetery, and everyone cried out. "What the fuck was that?" Luna asked.

Gasping, Lucy pointed. "There!"

Luna followed her finger to a gravestone. The wet earth in front of it was moving. What the fuck? Then, all at once, a skeleton rose out of the mud and opened its eyes. Leni let out an ear-piercing scream, and Luna went lightheaded with terror. They scattered, Luna, Lynn, Lola, Lana, and Lucy running left and Leni running right. Luan, frozen in terror, cowered in the doorway, her mouth covered with her hands. This couldn't be happening...it couldn't!

Yet all around her, ghouls in burial suits were clawing their way out of the ground. Her paralysis broke, and she jumped into the puddle, going down face first and struggling back up. "Wait up!" she screamed, starting to cry in fear. "Please! Wait!"

She made it to the edge of the puddle, and her foot sank into the mud. She went down with a yelp...and suddenly they were all around her, crawling, reaching, dead, decomposed faces with wide open mouths. She screamed as they fell on her.


	4. Trapped

The paramedic knelt before Lincoln and shined a light in his eyes. "What'd you say happened to them?" he asked. Another paramedic was wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Frank's forearm.

"Uh..." Bert said... "s-some chemical."

"What _kind_ of chemical?"

Bert spread his arms. "I'm not sure. I'll have to check."

"You better hurry. Your friends' lives may be on the line."

Ernie insisted on calling an ambulance when Frank and Lincoln were both too weak to make it up the basement stairs alone. In the embalming room, they collapsed onto the couch. Lincoln winced at the cramping pain in his muscles and the splitting headache threatening to crack his skull. A wool blanket was around his shoulders, but he was ice cold.

And scared.

That gas from the barrel...God only knew what it was doing to him.

Suddenly, like the little boy he was, he wanted his mother. And his sisters.

While Bert and Ernie watched, the paramedic pressed the chestpiece of a stethoscope to Lincoln's chest and listened, his brow furrowing. The paramedic working on Frank sat back and cocked his head bemusedly. "Can I borrow your cuff? This one isn't working."

Lincoln's paramedic sat his stethoscope aside. "I don't think it's the equipment."

"What?"

"Come here."

They got up and went over to the door, where they talked lowly. Something about their posture and the look in their eyes terrified Lincoln. "What are you saying?" he asked. Neither answered. _"What are you saying?"_

They came back over. "Neither one of you have blood pressure or a pulse. Neither one of you has a heartbeat. Technically...you're dead."

Lincoln started. _"Dead?"_

Next to him, Frank moaned.

The paramedic held up his hand. "I obvious don't mean that you're actually _dead_. You're both conscious."

Lincoln's head flopped back against the couch and tears came to his eyes. _Dead_ , he thought. _Dead_.

"We're going to get the stretchers..."

He was cut off by a loud banging and a chorus of screams echoing through the building. Ernie's face went white. "What was that?"

"Sounds like it's coming from the front," Bert said.

Together they went down a long hall to the lobby, Ernie pulling out his Lugar and snapping on a light. Through glass panes in the front door, he saw wet, dirt-streaked faces wide with terror.

He went to the door, opened it, and shoved the gun before him. A girl with her brown hair in a ponytail and freckles screamed and fell back. She held a quivering blonde girl under each arm. "Whoa!" another girl said, this one with short hair. "Don't shoot!"

"Are you on drugs?" Ernie demanded. "PCP? Bath salts? The pot?"

"No one's on drugs!" the one with the short hair said, throwing a frightened glance over her shoulder. "Just please, let us in!"

Ernie sighed and stepped aside as they pushed past him. He slammed the door and walked over to where Bert was standing, his brow crinkled.

"You gotta help us, mister!" the girl with the ponytail said. "There's people coming out of the ground!"

"What are you talking about?" Ernie asked.

"They're everywhere, man," the girl with the short hair wept, "it's like a mosh pit in hell."

"What?" Ernie tucked his gun into his pants. "If this is some kind of..."

"Shut up and listen!" one of the blonde girls cried.

Ernie did. A thousand ghostly moans filled the night. "What's that?" he asked.

"It's dead people screaming! Zombies!" the girl with the short hair said. "There's one in that warehouse across the street..."

"What warehouse?" Bert asked sharply.

"The medical supply warehouse."

 _"Goddamn it!"_ he raged, spinning and punching his leg. _"Shit!"_

Ernie's face was pale. He came over to Bert and put his hand on his shoulder. "Bert, I think, uh, things are starting to get out of hand..."

"There's a hundred of those things," Lynn said.

Bert and Ernie both turned to her. "A _hundred?"_

* * *

Leni threw a frightened glance over her shoulder. A dozen zombies spilled out of the cemetery gates, running after her like maniacs. She screamed and ran faster. Weren't, like, zombies supposed to be slow and stuff?

" _Brains!"_

The closest place to take shelter was the medical supply warehouse where Lincy worked. At the door, Leni burst through it and slammed it behind her, locking it. She stood against it, tears spilling down her face and her body trembling. They reached the door and started pounding. She cried out and stumbled away, turning and nearly falling. The door shuddered in its frame.

Shaking now, she crossed her arms and wandered to an office. She went to the desk, moved the chair aside, and shoved herself into the hollow space underneath. She cried and rocked back and forth.

Meanwhile, back at the mortuary, the paramedics went to the ambulance parked in the back and stopped. "Do you hear that?" one asked another.

They listened.

"It sounds like...screaming."

"You call it in and I'll get those stretchers."

In the cab, the paramedic reached for the CB and accidentally hit the headlight switch. What he saw revealed in the glow made his blood run cold: An army of rotting faces and bodies clad in dirty rags watched him. The passenger side door opened, and he turned to see a creature with yellow eyes reaching for him.

He fell out of the cab and turned to flee, but someone tackled him, and the next thing he knew, he was being eaten alive.

In the back, the other paramedic heard something. Furrowing his brow, he jumped out and came around. "Did you...?"

Someone grabbed him and shoved him against the side of the ambulance. It was a woman with gray, tattered skin and a skeletal face. He screamed as a dozen hands yanked, and a dozen sets of teeth sank into his head.

In the cemetery, a form buried in mud begins to move, hands reaching up, followed by arms, and finally a face. It is a girl with braces and a ponytail. Her eyes are cold and empty and her mouth works spasmodically. _"Brains..."_

* * *

When Luna entered the embalming room, the first thing she saw was Lincoln slumped on a couch, a wool blanket around his shoulders. A man, also with a blanket covering him, was slumped against the opposite arm. Her brother's face was pale and sweaty, the skin around his eyes pink and puffy. Her heart dropped into her stomach.

"Lincoln!" the twins cried, and ran to him, their arms out. He looked at them, and a tiny smile touched his haggard face.

She went to him and knelt. "H-Hey," she stammered. "W-What's wrong?"

He licked his lips. "I hurt," he said.

She reached out to touch his face, but yanked her hand back. He was cold.

Like he was dead.

"Look, Bert," Ernie was saying, "I know you have your business to worry about, but I think it's time we called the police about this."

Bert angrily ranked a hand through his silvery hair. "You're right," he finally said.

"What's wrong with my brother?" Luna asked.

Bert glanced at her then away.

" _What's wrong with him?"_

"I don't have to tell you shit," Bert said.

Lynn, her eyes flashing, cracked her knuckles. "I think you _should_."

Bert sighed. "Alright, goddamn it; there was a chemical. Some army thing. Those two stooges over there let it out, and that's what's making the dead come back."

Ernie sat heavily on a stool. Lynn sagged against the embalming table and bowed her head. The twins clung to Lincoln, looking scared.

"Now where's that phone?" Bert asked.

"Over there," Ernie said hollowly, gesturing to a desk against the far wall. Muttering to himself, Bert went over, picked up the handset, and put it to his ear. He pressed the plunger and his face darkened. "It's dead."

Ernie bowed his head. "Of course it is." He looked up. "Does anyone have a cell?"

"Yeah," Luna said. She reached into her pocket, and with a rush of horror, she didn't feel it. She checked her other pockets. Nothing.

"I-I must have dropped it," she said. "Lynn?"

Lynn shook her head. "Mine's at home."

She turned to Lincoln. "I left it in my locker at work."

"No one has a cellphone?" Ernie asked.

No one did.

"We gotta get out of here," Ernie said, and stood. "I'm gonna go grab those paramedics. We can pile into the ambulance."

Luna's face paled. "That's not a good idea, man. Those things are everywhere."

"It's fine," Ernie said, holding up a hand. He threw on a black pauncho and took his gun out. "We'll all be fine." He hoped he sounded surer than he felt.

While he went outside, Lincoln coughed. "Where's everyone else?"

It was only then that Luna realized they were missing Luan, Leni, and Lisa, and her heart clutched in her chest. "I don't know," she said, and tears came to her eyes.

"I used to think zombies were cool," Lucy said, coming over and sitting on the floor. "But they aren't."

Outside, Ernie pulled his pauncho closed and hurried to the ambulance. He glanced into the back, but didn't see anyone. He went along the side, and froze. A terrible _thing_ wearing a multicolored wig and a big red nose was eating the top of one of the paramedics' heads. It looked up, and he saw that it was a girl with braces. _"Brain food...get it?"_

Screaming, Ernie brought the gun up and fired. The girl fell over, but hopped up again, Ernie turned tail and ran, looking over his shoulder and crying out when he saw her chasing him on her hands, her skirt falling around her face to reveal her underwear. _"Come back, I got a joke for you!"_

Ernie slammed through the door and crashed it closed. He threw himself against it and looked around. Everyone was watching him with fearful eyes. "The p-p-paramedics are dead," he stammered. "Oh, God, it was horrible." He took a deep breath. "We gotta board this place up."

Luna squeezed Lincoln's knee. She didn't know what was happening, but she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. "Lola, Lana...stay with Lincoln. I need to help board the doors and windows."

Fear crossed both their faces. "Don't leave us!" Lola cried.

"Please!"

"I have to. Just for a minute."

In the lobby, zombies were breaking through the window panes in the door. Ernie pulled out his gun and fired a few rounds to drive them back. Lynn, Luna, and Lucy moved a heavy oak bookcase in front, and braced it with several chairs. One of the things snaked its hand through and caught a hand full of Lynn's hair. Lynn cried out, and Luna beat the hand until it released and her sister pulled away.

They moved as quickly through the building as they could, drawing shutters, locking doors, and boarding two-by-fours against weak spots. In one room, they were nailing planks over the window when a rotted hand shot through a crack and grabbed Lucy by the front of her shirt. She cried out as it drew her forward. Before Luna could save her, a rotted head came through and clamped onto Lucy's head. Blood spurted everywhere. Bert, a crowbar clutched in his hands, came over and beat the thing across the back until its spine broke and it flopped to the floor, a head and torso with mushy brains spilling out of its mouth.

Luna wailed and sank to her knees, tears spilling out of her. "Come on!" Ernie cried, grabbing her under her arms and dragging her back. "She's dead. Come on!"

Back in the embalming room, Luna sat against the wall and drew her knees to her chest. Lynn, poor Lynn, looked dazed. She sat on a stool and buried her face in her hands; the sound of her sobs made Luna cry too.

"Where's Lucy?" Lola asked.

Luna cried harder.

 _"Where is she?"_

When Luna looked up, the twins and Lincoln were both watching her with terror-filled eyes.

All three of them began to cry, Lincoln putting his arms around both of them and pulling them close.

Bert and Ernie carried the half-corpse in and laid it on the table, Ernie fetching some rope and tying it down. It hissed at him, and he drew back. Luna watched the thing with a mixture of hatred and horror. The stump of its spine wiggled like a tail; clear fluid leaked from it, and Luna shivered.

"Hey, asshole," Bert said, grabbing the thing's unnaturally healthy blonde hair in his hand and making it look at him. "Why do you eat people?"

" _Not people, brains!"_

"Yeah, well, why do you eat brains?"

 _"Because fuck you, that's why."_

"You _bitch!"_ Bert hissed, and cocked his fist.

" _Bring it, cocksucker."_

Ernie grabbed Bert and drew him away. "I'm gonna knock her goddamn teeth out," Bert said.

"Look, Bert. We can't stay here forever. Those doors and windows are only going to hold for so long. We need to start thinking of a way out."

Outside, Zombie Luan climbed into the cab of the ambulance and picked up the CB. _"Come in, dispatch...send more paramedics_." She started to put it back, then an idea struck her. _"Is your refrigerator running?"_

"Uh," dispatch crackled back, "the one in the break room? Yeah, why?"

 _"You better run after it before it gets away!"_

"Real funny, bub. I'm sending that extra unit out now."

Great. Luan _loved_ delivery.


	5. Death Sets In

Leni rocked back and forth, back and forth, her arms around her knees and tears streaming down her face. She could hear them out there, screaming, moaning, and pounding on doors and windows. She was so scared she could barely breathe. _Please let this be a nightmare, please let this be a nightmare, please let this be a nightmare..._ she remembered the things crawling out of the muddy ground, and cried harder. She wished Luna or Lynn or Lincoln or anyone was with her, but she was totally alone in the world.

When a shuffling footstep sounded just outside the office, electric tendrils of fear shot through her and she froze, her eyes widening and her body freezing mid-rock. _Oh no..._

Another footstep. _Scrape._

A swampy, dead smell wafted to her nostrils...the same swampy, dead smell from the basement when that horrible thing ate Lori.

 _Be quiet...don't move...maybe it'll go away..._

Instead, its leg appeared, black and slimy. Leni hugged herself tighter.

Suddenly, it dropped down to its knees, its skeletal face inches from hers. Leni screamed, and it grabbed her by the hair. She pounded her tiny fists against it, but to no avail. It dragged her forward, and she squeezed her eyes closed, preparing to feel it bite into her skull.

Nothing happened.

Leni opened one eye. The creature sniffed, then knocked on her head like it was a door. _"Brains!"_ it said, and pushed her away. She watched as it got to its feet and started away.

She should have been happy...she should have been overjoyed...instead, she was _furious_. She had never been more insulted in her life. Shaking, she crawled out from the cubby-hole. "Hey!"

The zombie was shambling toward the door to the storeroom. Fists balled at her sides, she followed it. "Hey, you drippy smelly thing, like...come back here and eat my brain!"

" _No,"_ the zombie said without turning.

"Why? Is my brain not _good_ enough for you?" She threw up air quotes on _good_ and made an ugly face.

" _I want a meal...not an_ _hors d'oeuvre_. _"_

Leni broke down crying, her hands fluttering to her face and her scrawny body shaking. The zombie turned slowly around and regarded her with a quizzical expression. She sank to her knees and sobbed loudly. The zombie looked around, bemused.

" _Look, uh..."_ the zombie started and rubbed the back of its neck, _"it's not...it's not you, it's me. Your brain just isn't my type. Yeah, that's it."_

"Everyone thinks I'm _so_ stupid," Leni sobbed. "My parents, my sisters, my brother...they all treat me like a moron and now you." She hitched as she spoke.

" _Hey, I'm sorry,"_ the zombie said, coming forward. He felt really bad now. Moving stiffly, he sat down across from Leni. He reached out a tentative hand and touched her shoulder. _"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I know what it's like to be treated bad. Uh...people are always running away from me and screaming just because I want to eat their brains. They treat me like a monster."_

"There's so much _more_ to me that people don't see," Leni said, sullenly crossing her arms. Her face was red and puffy.

" _Tell me about it...they just see my face and my slimy skin and go 'ah, oh no, scary zombie!' That hurts my feelings. I'm not_ just _a zombie. I'm a lot of other things too."_

"Right?"

" _I'm a good cook. And I like knitting."_

"So do I!" Leni said. "I _love_ designing clothes." She flapped her hand.

" _Yeah? What kind of clothes?"_

"Oh, all kinds. Men's clothes, women's clothes, kid's clothes, you name it. I'm working on this cute dress right now, but I'm having trouble with the hem. I made this cute cap last winter but my sister Lilly pooped on it and I had to throw it away,"

 _"Your sister pooped on it?"_

"Well, she's a baby."

" _Oh. Okay."_

"I have a _lot_ of siblings, so they're _always_ ruining something. Just last week my sister Lori – whose head you ate in the basement – spilled coffee all over the blanket I knitted for Lincy – my brother – and it made me _so_ mad."

The zombie rubbed the back of his neck. _"I'm, uh, sorry for eating your sister's brain."_

Leni sighed. "Yeah, that was _totes_ not cool, but mistakes happen. I'm Leni, by the way."

" _Allan."_

They shook.

"So, Allan, what's it like being a zombie?"

 _"It hurts."_

"Like...pain?"

" _Yeah."_

Leni pouted. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

" _Not really."_

For a minute neither one of them spoke, then Leni asked, "Want to play a game?"

Allan shrugged. _"Sure."_

* * *

Lincoln hissed over clenched teeth, and Luna took him in her arms the way she did when he was little and not feeling well. "It hurts," he moaned.

Lynn was sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, the twins were huddled next to the couch, and Bert paced back and forth, his hands on his hips. Ernie sat on his stool next to the embalming table, the half-corpse wiggling it spine tail and singing. _"I like brains...they taste good...I like brains...I'd eat one if I could..."_

"How about you shut the fuck up?" Bert asked.

" _Make me..."_

Bert shook his head. "Bert," Ernie said, "just ignore..." his head whipped around when a siren rose in the night. Everyone looked toward the door, their faces hopeful. Ernie got up and slid back the narrow eye panel. "It's an ambulance," he said. He pressed his mouth to the hole. "Get out of here! They're gonna get you!"

He looked back through the hole just as a thousand dead screams sounded. Luna shivered.

"Damn it," Ernie said, sliding the panel back. He went back to the stool and sat down.

The zombie threw its head back and forth. _"Brains are great...brains are fine...the perfect snack...any time..."_

"Ernie," Bert warned, "shut that thing up."

Lincoln wailed and everyone looked at him. Luna held him tighter. "Shhh," she said, "it's gonna be okay."

Ernie got off his stool, came over, and knelt in front of Lincoln. "What exactly are you feeling, son?"

Lincoln winced. His lips were blue and his skin was a sickly gray. "My head," he moaned, "and my joints. It hurts so bad."

Ernie swallowed nervously and looked at Luna. "Could you...turn him over?"

Luna did, and Lincoln howled in pain.

Ernie pushed the back of his shirt up, and Luna gasped: Lincoln's skin was covered by what looked like a giant blue bruise. "Dear God," he muttered, and Luna's heart clutched.

"What?"

Ernie shook his head and put his hand to his face.

" _What?"_

"Livor mortis," Ernie said. "His blood's pooling. The joint pain..." he chuckled humorlessly. "That's rigor mortis."

Luna didn't understand. "But that..." then it hit her, and her heart stopped.

"He's dead," Bert said, his voice rising. "He's dead and he's going to turn into one of those things!"

Lincoln screamed, his body trembling. "No!" Next to him, Frank shook his head and hugged himself, tears spilling from his eyes.

Luna hugged her brother closer, giving into her tears and weeping bitterly. He quaked against her, crying now too. The twins were clutching each other and sobbing. Lynn hung her head and fought back tears of her own. She had to be strong...or she and what was left of her family wouldn't make it out of this alive.

But Lincoln...her little brother...

She blinked.

"We have to get them out of here," Bert said, jerking his chin toward Frank and Lincoln. "If they turn, we're fucked."

"No," Luna sobbed, pressing her face to Lincoln's hair.

Ernie shook his head. "Where can we put them? We can't just push them out the door and let those things have them."

"I don't know," Bert said, then, "what about the chapel?"

There was a chapel off the main hall, a tiny space where wakes and viewings were held. It was filled with pews. The stained glass windows were shuttered from the outside. The door _was_ strong...

"I guess," Ernie sighed.

"No!" Luna cried. "Don't put him in there, please!"

"We have to," Bert said. "They're dangerous."

Luna wept.

"Look," Ernie said, "we're just going to put them in the chapel. They'll be safe in there. Frank and Lincoln don't want to hurt anyone, right?"

"He's right," Lincoln coughed. "I-I don't want to any of you guys."

Bert came over and knelt in front of Frank. "Frankie, my boy, can you make it on your own?"

Frank nodded. "I think so."

He tried to get up, but collapsed back against the couch with a pained cry. "Aw, God."

Bert looked over his shoulder at Lynn. "You and your sister get Lincoln, me and Ernie will get Frank, alright?"

Lynn rubbed her face but didn't get up.

"Come on, goddamn it," Bert snapped, "unless you want them eating your sisters' brains!"

Lynn got up and walked over. Unshed tears stood in her eyes. She grabbed Lincoln's legs while Luna grabbed him under his arms. Bert and Ernie did the same to Frank, and together they carried them out into the hall and to the chapel. Inside, they laid them on the floor. Lincoln cried out. His entire body hurt.

"Alright," Bert said, patting Frank on the shoulder.

Luna sat with Lincoln's head in her lap, her hand running through his hair. His face was twisted in agony. "I'm staying," she said.

"What?" Bert asked. "Kid..."

"I'm staying," she repeated.

"Luna..." Lynn said.

"I can't leave him," Luna wept. "Man, I can't." The thought of leaving her brother to die alone on a floor, scared and in pain, made her cry harder. She couldn't do that to him; she would stay and she would hold him.

Lynn's tears began to fall. "Luna, please..."

Luna couldn't bear the sight of them, and looked away. "Just go."

* * *

Officer Steve Johnson of the Royal Woods PD was on a mission: Two paramedic ambulances were missing in action and no one could raise them on the radio. Their last reported location was the Sunrise Funeral Home off O'Bannon Street, and presently he turned onto a narrow lane running along the southern edge of Resurrection Cemetery. Next to him, Dale Parker, his partner of fifteen years, picked up the CB and spoke to dispatch.

"There," Dale said a minute later, pointing over the wheel at an entrance. Steve looked, and sure enough, he saw two ambulances parked side-by-side, their emergency lights flashing in the drizzling rain.

This was a rough section of Royal Woods with a lot of crime. It was usually minor, like prostitution or drug dealing, but every once in a while, something big happened. Just two years ago someone carjacked a family, shot them all in the head, and then dumped them on the side of the road. Another time, someone started a fire in an abandoned warehouse then took potshots at the firefighters as they arrived, killing one and wounding four. God only knows what happened to the paramedics; some drug fiend probably saw them, figured they had that _good_ , and robbed them, killing them because why the hell not?

Steve parked behind the ambulance and grabbed the shotgun from the rack between the seats, just in case.

"Let's roll," he said, and he and Dale got out.

The night was preternaturally quiet. No crickets chirped, no bullfrogs croaked; the steady drizzle seemed to not even make a sound. Steve looked around. Woods flanked both sides of the driveway. Ahead, past the ambulances, was the back of the funeral home, a single lamp over the door casting muted light.

Moving as one (as they had come to do after so many years working together), Steve and Dale went over to the back of the ambulance.

"Christ," Dale muttered.

Before them lay four bodies, their heads laid open and their brains seeping out. A wave of nausea crashed over Steve, and he fought back a rush of bile.

" _Brains!"_

Steve jerked and whipped his head up. A dozen people were coming out of the woods, two dozen, running with outstretched arms. Dale lifted his service weapon and yelled for them to freeze; when they didn't listen, he opened fire.

Steve brought the shotgun up, but someone grabbed him from behind and threw him to the ground, the gun flying from his hands.

A creature wearing a rainbow wig and a big red nose straddled his chest, and he screamed. _"I just love a man in uniform!"_ It grabbed his face in its cold hands and lifted him close...

Ernie closed the eye panel with a sigh. "This place...it's a death trap." He looked at Bert. "Anyone who comes in...gets swallowed up."

Lynn was sitting on the couch so recently occupied by her brother, Lana and Lola clinging desperately to her. She had to be brave and strong for them, but at this moment, she felt anything _but_ brave and strong. She was scared shitless...terror resting heavily upon her chest like a dark, pressing weight. She hugged her sisters close; it fell to her to protect them, and she would, even if it meant sacrificing herself.

"You said we had to get out of here," Bert said. He was standing by the embalming table with his hands on his hips, the hem of his Members Only jacket pushed back. "Is there any way? A sewage drain, maybe? A goddamn tunnel? Anything?

Ernie, leaning against the wall, sweat shining on his face, shook his head. "No. The only way out is through this door or the front door."

"Shit," Bert muttered.

" _Brains...ummmm...tasty brains...with fava beans and a nice chianti..."_ the zombie smacked its lips obscenely.

"Ma'am?" Ernie said. "Could you please be quiet?"

Instead of shutting up, it started to sing: _"I like chicken, I like liver, brains, brains, brains, brains...please deliver..."_

"I'll shut it up," Bert said. He disappeared, then came back with a roll of duct tape.

" _What are you doing?"_

He ripped a strip off and pressed it against the zombie's mouth. Now when it spoke, its word were garbled and muffled. "Ha!" he laughed into its face. "Let's see you talk that shit now."

The zombie flopped its spine-tail back and forth.

Ernie was looking out the eye panel again.

"Is Lincoln going to be okay?" Lana asked, bringing Lynn out of her thoughts. The little girl watched her with a tear streaked face.

"I hope so," Lola said. "And Luna."

Lynn opened her mouth, but what could she say? Should she lie? Tell them the truth? Their beloved brother was going to turn into one of those things...she shut that line of thought out. "He's gonna be fine," she said thickly, hoping the tremble in her voice and the tears in her eyes didn't betray the lie.

"Jesus," Ernie muttered, his face pressed to the slot.

"What is it?" Bert asked.

"More cops..." Ernie said. "A shit ton... _aaaaand_ they're being eaten." He sighed and turned away.

Bert's face was wan, his eyes dark. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "that's good. They know something's wrong at least."

"But what are they gonna do about it?" Ernie asked. "These things won't fucking die."

A loud crash filled the building, and Luna screamed...


	6. The End

Lincoln thrashed in her arms, his body going stiff and his teeth bared. She held him close and wept as he wailed in agony. There was nothing else she could do; if she could take his place she would in a heartbeat. He opened his eyes and fixed her with a pain-filled gaze. He looked so miserable. "It hurts so bad," he muttered.

"I know," she said through her tears and hugged him. "I'm sorry, man. I'm so fucking sorry."

Frank lay on his side, his arms and legs contracting. He howled and breathed deeply.

"It's my fault," Lincoln said, and hissed.

"It's mine!" Frank screamed and thrashed. "I'm sorry, kid! I'm sorry! God forgive me! It's my fault! All my fault!"

Another spasm wracked Lincoln's body, and he cried out, spittle flying from his lips. "Jesus Christ! It hurts so _fucking_ bad!"

Luna rocked him back and forth like she did when he was a baby. "It's okay, man, I'm here, I'm here..."

He howled and shook.

When he was little and cranky, Luna would sing to him, and it always made him feel better. Even though a part of her knew that singing would not take the pain away, she did it regardless. "Hush, little baby..."

He spasmed. _"Fuck!"_

Luna hitched. "...don't say a word."

 _"God, help me!"_

A shudder when through his body, and then he went limp, his eyes rolling back into his head and his clenched teeth releasing. He was dead weight in her lap. She held him and wept bitterly.

"You know," he said in an even tone, and shifted slightly. "I realize something now."

"W-What?" she hitched.

He sat up and looked at her, and she fell back. His eyes were wide and mad. "Brains...make the pain go away." With a yell, he lunged at her, and she screamed. He crashed into her and knocked her to the floor, his rapidly cooling hands wrapping around her throat. White foam flew from his mouth. _"Brains!"_

Panicking, she lashed out and hit him in the face. His hands released and he toppled over. She jumped to her feet, and so did he, squatting between her and the door like a football player. "Come on," he said, "let me eat your brain!"

Frank, his eyes wide with terror, used one of the pews to get to his feet.

Lincoln sprang forward, but Luna ducked to the left, jumping onto one of the pews and running along it. Lincoln tried to do likewise, but as a zombie he was clumsy, and the pew tipped over, crashing to the floor. Luna stumbled to the floor and screamed.

" _Goddamn it!"_ Lincoln roared, getting to his feet.

"Dude!" Luna wailed, tears in her eyes. "Stop, please!"

 _"Give me your brain!"_

He leapt forward, and she ducked right. The chapel doors flew open, and Bert and Ernie entered, Ernie holding a glass jar in his hand. Ernie came forward and Luna brushed past him.

" _Brains!"_

He threw the contents of the glass onto Lincoln's face. Lincoln screamed as his flesh began to blister and sizzle. He stumbled back and fell.

Bert threw his arms around Luna, and she buried her face into his chest, the tears coming hot and fast. "It's alright," he said, dragging her away. "It's alright. Come on!"

None of them noticed Frank slip out of the chapel and disappear down the hall...

* * *

Fifty-seven police officers moved into the industrial section of Royal Woods, many of them in riot gear. They blocked the streets around the Sunrise Funeral Home and Resurrection Cemetery. The situation was still unclear, but a group of people had attacked and killed ten police officers sent to investigate two missing ambulances and a missing squad car. Captain J.T. Burger, who had been with the RWPD for twenty-five years and was thinking of retiring, stood by the open door of his cruiser, which was parked nose-to-nose with another cruiser across Industrial Way three blocks north of the cemetery. He leaned in, grabbed the CB, and said, "Where're those state boys? I need 'em here on the double."

Elements of the state police were inbound as of fifteen minutes ago. Burger didn't like working with the staties...they had a way of coming in and throwing their weight around...but ten of his men were dead and two were missing...and at least thirty fucking perps were on the ground. He'd work with the goddamn KKK if that's what it took.

"They're incoming," the dispatcher replied haggardly. It was well past midnight and everyone was on edge.

Burger said, "Roger," and replaced the handset back in its cradle. He grabbed a shotgun and racked it. Ahead, the street stood empty save for the rain and the light cast by arch sodium lamps up and down the sidewalk. Earlier, reports came in of acid rain in the area. He wondered if that had anything to do with what was happening now.

* * *

"Then _I_ was like 'but that's not your color!' She _totes_ didn't listen."

" _No."_

Leni nodded. "And she looked _horrible_."

They were sitting face-to-face in the office. Leni held Allan's hand and painted his nails (or what was left of them) pink. _"It was her own fault."_

Leni nodded. "Yep. And she wonders why she didn't get a second date." She took the brush away and looked at Allan's nails. "Pink is _totes_ your color."

He held his hands up and looked at them. _"I...I actually kind of like it."_

"Figured you would," she said, reaching into her purse. "Now for lipstick." She took out a tube and looked at Allan. He didn't _have_ lips. "Uh, forget the lipstick." She put it back into her purse.

* * *

In the basement of Sunrise Funeral Home, Frank pressed a button, and the bowels of the crematorium filled with fire, bathing his white face in a hellish glow. For a minute, he simply stared into the flames, his heart racing and his lungs bursting with panic. It is hardwired into human beings to avoid hot, burning fire, and standing there before the inferno, Frank was going against nature.

He blinked, coming out of his reprieve, and slipped his wedding band off of his finger. He held up it and looked at it; it sparkled in the light of the fire. He had been married to Martha, his high school sweetheart, for thirty-five years. They had their ups and downs, but they were happy and they loved each other. He thought of her at home, waiting for him, probably worried out of her mind, and his heart broke. He brought the ring to his lips and kissed it. "I'm sorry," he muttered, tears coming to his eyes. He slipped it onto a nub sticking out of the wall and sank to his knees, his muscles screaming and his head swimming. He folded his hands before him and closed his eyes. He was a Catholic...and he knew what he was about to do was the ultimate sin...the one sin that could never be redeemed. Hopefully God would take mercy on him...given the circumstances.

His mind flashed back to Lincoln in the chapel, foam spilling from his mouth and his eyes fevered. In his blood-lust, he went after his sister...his own sister...Frank shuddered. He tried to imagine being like that, running through the rain with his arms out and the taste of someone's brains in his mouth...killing people, hurting people...maybe people he loved...maybe even Martha.

"Forgive me," he said, then got stiffly to his feet. He reached into the oven and pulled out the tray. He cried out as the flesh of his palms sizzled.

When it was out just enough, he climbed onto it, wincing and hissing as his hands and knees burned. He turned around so that he was facing the basement. Screaming now, he scooted the tray into the oven, flames licking his feet and legs. The pain was excruciating, and his resolve almost crumbled; every atom in his body screamed for him to crawl back out, and he almost did...which is why he reached out and slapped the button that lowered the door. It clanged into place with a grim finality, and he wailed in agony as the fire consumed him.

* * *

Lincoln sprang at Ernie, who fell back, his knee twisting and his ankle snapping. With a scream, he fell to the ground and Lincoln mounted him, his eyes and the surrounding skin an angry, acid-splashed pink. Bert came forward and smashed his fist into Lincoln's face: The boy flew back and landed in a heap. Yelling, Bert hooked his arms around Ernie and dragged him out, slamming the chapel doors.

"Move that bench in front!" he yelled.

Luna, still sobbing, and Lynn, her eyes wide and haunted, stood by a long wooden bench. They pushed it in front of the door as Lincoln threw himself against it. _"Let me out!"_ he wailed. _"I want your brains!"_

Ernie was sitting in a heap on the floor, breathing heavily. "How's that leg?" Bert asked, kneeling.

"Broken."

"Shit," Bert muttered.

Throwing his arm around him, he helped Ernie back to the embalming room. Lana and Lola were hugging each other. They looked like they were in shock. Luna and Lynn went to them, each taking one in their arms.

Bert sat Ernie on the stool and raked a hand through his hair. "Alright, we got two of those things in here now. We gotta go."

Ernie swallowed. "The cop car out back."

Bert went over to the door and slid the panel back. The night was empty. The police car stood with both its doors open and its lights flashing. He squinted. "It's still running," he said over his shoulder.

Ernie nodded. "Good."

Bert looked back out the slot. "If I could get to it, I could bring it up to the door and everyone could get in."

A few zombies shambled aimlessly around, and Bert's heart pounded. Though he would never say, those things scared the God out of him.

"I'll go with you," Lynn said from the couch.

Bert looked at her. "No, you stay with your sisters."

"You _need_ someone else out there. Those things will rip you apart."

Bert looked back out the slot and chewed his lip. She was right, he'd feel a whole lot better with someone else, but a little girl?

"Don't go," Lana cried, tugging at Lynn's shirt.

"I have to," Lynn said softly and stroked her sister's blonde hair. "It's the only way."

"You think you can do it?" Bert asked.

"Yes," Lynn said. She sat Lana aside and got up. "I'm not worried about getting to the car, I'm worried about everyone else getting to the car. Those assholes will be right on top of us."

"There's an ax in the hall," Ernie said. "And a crowbar in my office."

Bert nodded. While he went to get them, Lynn stood on her tippy-toes and looked out the eye panel. The cop car was maybe thirty feet away...not a great distance at all. And the zombies...well...she was used to dodging people running at her...the only difference was this time they weren't after a football, they were after her brain.

No pressure.

Bert returned and handed the crowbar to Lynn. Ernie stood on his good foot and limped over to the door, resting heavily against the wall. "Alright," Bert said, "we go out swinging, get to the car, and bring it to the door."

Easier said than done, Lynn thought, but didn't speak.

"Ernie, you open the door and slam it behind us, okay?" He looked at Luna and the twins. "Girls, get over here and wait. We're gonna have to be quick."

Lana and Lola looked terrified. Luna put her arms around them and brought them over.

"Hey, Bert," Ernie said.

Bert looked at him.

"That favor you owe me? Watch your ass out there."

Bert grinned.

"You ready?" Lynn asked.

Ernie nodded. He unlatched the door and rested his hand on the knob.

"Now," Bert said.

Ernie ripped the door open, and Bert and Lynn dashed out. Ernie slammed the door behind them and pressed his face to the panel. Luna rested her chin on his shoulder and watched with a sickening lurch as zombies started running at them. Bert swung the ax and caught one in the face, driving it back. Lynn brought the crowbar around and struck one in the hip; it sank to the ground.

More were coming out of the woods. Running as fast as they could, they closed the distance between them and the car. Bert jumped behind the wheel and Lynn slid into the passenger seat. Bert threw it into drive, and the car surged toward the door, its lights revolving. The night was filled with the dead now; they threw themselves onto the car until it was completely covered with bodies. Luna's heart raced.

In the car, Bert cussed. "They're too many of them!" He threw the car into reverse, and hung a sharp left.

"What are you doing?" Lynn cried.

"We can't!" Bert said.

 _"My sisters are back there!"_

"We'll swing wide and come back around!" The car crashed through a screen of trees and exploded into the cemetery, its tires dipping into holes from which the dead had come. Zombies ducked out of the way. Lynn clutched the crowbar tight, her stomach sick.

They came through the gate and the tires skitted on the rain slicked street. Bert screamed and jerked the wheel, but the car rolled. Lynn's heart leapt into her throat as she hit the ceiling and crunching glass sprayed her face, cutting her skin. For a moment she lay there, then, remembering she was in the middle of the zombie apocalypse, she wiggled out of the window and got to her feet.

Zombies were running at her. _"Brains!"_

"Come on!" Bert screamed and started running toward a building. Lynn followed, not realizing until they were inside, the door locked tight behind them, that they were back where it had all began...where the thing ate Lori's head.

"Shit," Bert said, "they're everywhere."

Luna, Lola, and Lana were still over there...trapped.

"Hi, Lynn!"

Leni turned, her heart bursting when she saw Leni's smiling face.

It dropped again when the horrible thing with dripping black skin appeared behind her. Bert gasped. "Leni!" Lynn cried. "Watch out!"

Fright crossed Leni's face, and she turned. "Oh," she said, relaxing, "that's just Allan. He's _totes_ cool."

 _"Hi,"_ Allan said, lifting a nervous hand.

Lynn blinked. "He ate Lori!"

" _Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't know how cool your sister is. She's my BHFF."_

Lynn's brow furrowed. "BHFF?"

" _Best human friend forever."_

Leni held up her fists and squeed. "And he's my BZFF. Best zombie friend forever."

Bert and Lynn looked at each other.

"As long as he doesn't try eating anyone's brain, I don't care."

Allan held up a hand. _"I'm off the stuff for good."_

Shaking his head, Bert went into the office and picked up the phone. "It's dead."

 _"I_ may _have tripped over the cord,"_ Allan said with a sheepish grimace, _"sorry."_

Bert sighed. "There's a phone in the basement. Come on. We need to get some help."

* * *

"They left us!" Luna cried. "They left us!"

"They _had_ to," Ernie said, turning. His eyes were pooled with terror and doom was written across his face. Pounding echoed through silent building...Lincoln trying to get out of the chapel.

"Alright," Ernie panted, "there's an attic." He lifted his head, and Luna looked up to see a hatch. Lola and Lana cowered on either side of her. "We'll be safe up there." He limped over to a desk and dragged a chair over, setting it next to the table. "You go first," he said to Luna. Nodding, she grabbed Lana and got onto the chair. Reaching up, she opened the hatch and pushed her sister in. Next came Lola. When they were both in, she braced her arms and lifted herself up.

A loud crash resounded through the building.

Hissing, Ernie lifted himself up onto the chair, and Luna reached down to help, pulling him up just as the hall door smashed open.

" _Luna!"_ Lincoln screamed.

Ernie slammed the hatch and rested his weight on it. Luna held both of her sisters in her lap.

"Is that Lincoln?" Lana asked.

Ernie shook his head. "That's not Lincoln. Lincoln...Lincoln's in Heaven." He flashed a nervous smile. "That thing's just a monster that wants to eat your brain."

* * *

In the basement of the Uneeda Medical Supply warehouse, Bert approached a wall mounted phone and lifted the handset to his ear. Thank God, there was a dial tone! He dialed 911 as Lynn, Leni, and Allan pressed close. The zombie was making him nervous. "Could you back up?"

Allan took three shuffling steps backwards.

"Yes," Bert said when someone answered, "this is Bert Wilson. I'm at 1099 Industrial Way..." he paused, his eyes widening. "Yes, we're in the quarantine zone. We know what's happening."

He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "They're putting me through."

Several blocks north, J.T. Burger picked up a telephone. "Yeah?"

"This is Bert Wilson," a voice replied, "I'm stuck in your quarantine zone with other people. Look, it's zombies! You're fighting zombies! You can't kill them. They'll eat you if they catch you. We need help!"

A chorus of screams rose and Burger looked up to see a mass of people running toward the blockade. His heart jumped into his chest, and he dropped the phone.

Gunfire rent the night as a dozen cops opened up on the advancing army. Some jerked, some spun...but none fell.

Too close. They were getting too close. "Fall back!" he cried, and turned to flee, but was stopped by a girl with braces: She was wearing a rainbow wig and a bright red nose. _"Spring forward!"_ she cried, doing just that...

...and eating his brain.

Bert listened to the sounds of destruction, his shoulders sagging.

"What?" Lynn asked worriedly.

He held up the phone: Screams, gunshots, and cries of _"Brains!"_ filled the line. Lynn trembled.

Bert's head suddenly snapped up. "The barrels! There's a number on the side!" He looked at Lynn. "Go over there and give me the phone number!"

Lynn nodded and rushed over to the barrels clustered in the corner. She read off the number and Bert dialed it.

* * *

Across the country, a buzzing sound fills a dark room and a man sits bolt upright, his heart shooting into his throat. For a moment, he thinks he's dreaming again: Every other night, it seemed, the phone buzzed in his head but not in reality. One glance at the flashing red light emanating from the apparatus on the nightstand dispels that notion. This is real...dear God...someone found the barrels!

He snaps on the lamp and picks up the handset. Next to him, his wife stirs and looks over, her eyes pooled with fear. She didn't know much, only that the phone on her husband's nightstand would only ring under one circumstance: Hell had broken loose.

"This is Col. Potter," he says into the mouthpiece.

"We're patching you through, Col." a cool, efficient female voice says. A minute later, there's a click and he can hear breathing. "Col. Potter," he says, grabbing a notepad and pen from the nightstand.

He listens with a placid expression as the man explains the situation. On the inside, however, he was trembling. "How many acres does this cemetery cover?" he asked, then wrote down the answer. "How many of them have you personally observed?" He jots that down too. _Over a hundred_. He looks down at those three words and swallows hard. "How long have you been in possession of the barrels? Why didn't you call sooner?" Potter listens and nods. "Understandable. We've been preparing for this. Help is on the way."

Potter hangs up the phone, then picks it back up and dials a number. "Sir...we've found the eggs...and they've hatched."

* * *

" _Luuuuuuunaaaaaa!"_ Lincoln drew. The hatch jumped under Ernie's weight and Luna let out a strangled cry. Lola and Lana hugged her tight and cried into her shirt, which was now saturated with tears.

"Go away!" she screamed.

" _I just want your brain!"_

Ernie drew a gun from his pants and cocked it. He looked at the three little girls before him, their faces twisted in terror. How many bullets did he have? Certainly three...four, if God was in a particularly good mood. He swallowed against a sandpaper throat. Ernie didn't often think of the past, but here, in a dark, cramped attic with the world falling down around him, it was impossible _not_ to. A long time ago, he was one of the most feared _Stasi_ agents in all of East Germany, and in his years, he tortured and killed many men, some of them in places just like this: Small, dark, and hopeless. It was only fitting that he should die as they had.

These little girls didn't deserve this, though. If this was God's punishment, he would face it like a man...if only they could live.

 _"Come on!"_ Lincoln cried, driving his shoulder against the hatch. It jumped and Ernie did everything in his power to make himself as heavy as he could. _"I'd do anything for you guys...and you won't do this one little thing for me?"_

"Please go away!" Lana cried.

" _It won't hurt...I swear...I'll make it quick..."_

Ernie drew a deep breath. Was it just him, or was the air becoming hotter, more stale?

The hatch jumped again, pain vibrating up Ernie's leg. _Please, God...do something..._

* * *

A hundred miles away, a black man in a tank sitting atop a wooded ridge picks up a phone. "Sargent Jefferson, 42nd Special Mobile Artillery...yes, sir! Good morning to you, too, sir!"

He listens, then types into a computer. "Setting coordinance now, sir." He types something else, and the giant turret slowly turns east. He presses a red button, and a missile slips into the chamber. "Launching now, sir."

He presses the button again, and the missile blasts from the turret on its way to Royal Woods.

In the basement of Uneeda Medical Supply, Bert, sitting against the wall, looks up. "You hear that?"

Lynn cocks her head. She does. It's a high whistle.

At the funeral home, Ernie takes a deep breath and aims the gun at Luna's head.

Outside, Luan looks up as something plummets toward earth. _Is...is that a brain? A giant, tasty brain?_

* * *

 **July 4, 2017**

 **6:30 AM, Central Daylight Time**

A giant explosion rips through the industrial section of Royal Woods, a mushroom cloud towering into the sky. The blast strips shingles off of roofs and smashes windows. 20 blocks are destroyed, and the rest of the city wakes to the sound of judgement day.

And as the smoke pours into the sky, it begins to rain...

* * *

 **If this ending seems familiar and you've never seen the movie, you may very well have read it in my story** _ **Night of the Bimbo Sisters 2**_ **, the ending of which is a direct homage to ROTLD. In fact, the whole story was inspired by it.**


End file.
